I remember also: ” Life as it was with Mama`”
This is a wonderful post.
Upstairs, in my daughter’s room, on the second shelf of her bookcase, there is a small, hexagon-shaped woven basket, with a red ribbon decoratively tied to the lid’s handle. I’m not sure how old it is, but it has been sitting on its perch for many years, quietly ignored and gathering dust. A relic of another time.
It is my mother’s basket. After her death, I remember lifting the lid to take a peek at what was inside. Nothing but clutter. Of course, organization was never one of my mother’s better skills, and even less so after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I placed the lid back in its place and positioned the basket on a shelf. Before you knew it, 21 years had gone by.
Fast-forward to this week when I decide some “spring cleaning” is in order. Tackling each room, eventually I end up in my daughter’s. And…
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